Stitching Up a Life Left Broken
by Sheamaru
Summary: There aren't many ways anyone can help Chase, let alone Nico. But when he comes to her seeking a little favor  maybe the little she can do is enough. [Spoilers to issue 18]


The overall idea of this fanfiction does not belong to me - I borrowed it from the writer pez is tasty. This stiroy contains spoilers from issue 18 of the Runaways, a series which I do not own.

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Nico wasn't just the leader because she had some smart ideas when it came to fighting – she was also somewhat motherly in the Hostel. It was because of this motherly behavior that everyone knew to avoid her when she was seen carting a large bag of clothes to the table in the center of the underground lair because it meant she was going to be sewing. Sewing had always been a hobby she enjoyed but as the others continued to grow she spent at least two days and one all-nighter a month working on hemming or sizing clothes. The hours and constant stabs to her own finger (at least one of which called The Staff of One from her body which she would lean against the table in a way that seemed threatening though probably wasn't meant to be) left her somewhat irritated. But, when she woke up the next morning after passing out to find her work completed there was never a happier Nico.

Most of the others were holed up in Karolina's room, playing a board game. She could hear the cheers from Molly and groans of the others as the twelve-year-old continued to beat them all. More than once she'd heard Karolina settled Xavin down and remind her that it was just a game. Victor was the only one sent out for snacks – quite possibly because the rest of them thought he stood a better chance of returning.

"Going alright?" the android asked as he headed down the stairs. The Minoru girl's hands dropped to her lap and she rolled her neck, groaning softly at the stiffness that had settled so far in the muscles that she hadn't realized it was there.

"Same as usual."

Victor's hands rested on her shoulders and she could feel the massage gradually working through his fingertips. They moved expertly and no sooner had ten seconds gone by before she was turning into a puddle in her seat His soft laughter sounded behind her, "Looks like this little project gets you pretty tense."

"Someone's got to do it," she replied before shaking the other's hands off, "And it'll never get finished if you keep _that _up."

"Alright, alright. I get the hint," he chuckled and went so far as to put his hands up in a defensive position. Leaning down to peck her on the lips, the Mancha boy grabbed his snacks and was soon back upstairs to laugh and joke with the others. Though their voices echoed off the stone walls it was still fairly quiet and Nico slipped back into her work.

Soon the low pulse of sound was broken by a stride that sounded like the person wasn't picking up their feet so much as just sliding them along the floor. Old sneakers that had seen one too many days of battles and life in _general_ grated along the cold dirt floor accompanied by the heavy tap of thick, sharp talons. Despite the fact she heard them clearly, Nico avoided looking up as Chase and Old Lace both stepped into the main hall. The blonde, newly eighteen, Chase Stein wasn't_ exactly_ trying to draw the leader's attention to himself either.

Sparing nothing more than a 'hey' between them, he headed for the kitchen and soon there was the snap of a soda can being opened. Nico pretended to be enveloped in her work, forcing her mind on the careful stitches she was making with pink thread in one of Molly's old shirts, but it was impossible. Even if she hadn't looked at him the aura of irritation was flowing off of him like a river. A huge river. With _rapids. _She was sure if she were Old Lace she would have been able to smell the defeat and heart-break on him. Even after all this time, Chase hadn't so much as left the house unless he was needed and couldn't seem to get over the open gap in their team.

Gert's death had hit them all hard and, at first, she resented Chase for taking it harder than any of them had. She was their friend too – not just his. He damn well should have understood they wanted her back just as badly as he did but to seriously think about taking his own life, or the life of anyone else, to bring her back? _That _was stupid. Gert herself would have thought so. He was hurting but it was better than being _dead_ in the whole scheme of things.

_At least it _should _be that way_, she thought, pausing in her stitches to glance towards the kitchen. Chase was out of sight behind the wall but the sad, curled up form of O.L was visible through the doorway. The dinosaur's great red eyes flicked towards her for a moment in an imaginary sigh before looking back up to Chase again. Nico herself heaved a sigh where Old Lace couldn't before turning back to her work. Distractions usually proved fairly effective when it came to things like this; Chase was her friend but there wasn't anything she could do to help him over this. Gert was his _girl, _he _loved _her. There was no way her words would fix that and thinking about it only made her own stomach turn cold in guilt.

In the other room Chase crushed the soda can he'd been drinking from and tossed it lazily towards the trash can without even watching it make its target. Even though his objective had been completed, he didn't leave the kitchen immediately and instead paced for a few seconds. Old Lace lifted her head to watch him before getting to her own feet and making confused but somewhat excited faces at him. Being able to sense her master's plight, she stuck her nose in his pathway and Chase stopped quiet suddenly. Looking up along her face and settling on those lost red eyes made him exhale a breath and run his hand back over her smooth scales.

"Sorry, O.L, just thinking about stuff," he explained before snorting, "Right, like I needed to tell you that, huh girl?" He shook his head and took a deep breath, mumbling a soft phrase of support before heading back out towards the magic-girl working away on her little sewing project.

"Hey," he grunted a bit uneasily as he pulled out one of the other chairs at the table and took a seat. Nico looked up from Molly's shirt, clearly a little surprised at the minor intervention, before nodding.

"Hey…" she trailed, unsure of what to say. Uncomfortable silence settled between them for a few minutes that weren't really that long yet felt agonizing, "What's…uh…up?"

Chase leaned back in the wooden chair, slouching in a posture that she was sure he thought made him look tough or at least less awkward. Immediately she knew there was something on his mind and silently hoped it didn't have to do with him apologizing about what had happened. She wasn't really sure she could take an apology and was pretty sure Victor had been watching from the bedroom the second he sensed Chase downstairs with her. While that wouldn't really be a problem, if either of them decided to go macho on her then there'd be a fight and that _really _wasn't what she needed.

"Nothing," He replied, giving the most predicted and well known answer to that question. Blue eyes were focused on the pile of clothes Nico had spread across the table with such an intensity she wasn't sure if he was trying to see through them or set them on fire. Even as she glanced up at him every few moments, Chase didn't move or motion that he really had anything else to say. _Does he really just want to sit out here with me while I sew?_

"Listen…" he started, the wooden chair creaking under his weight as he shifted to lean forward. That intense gaze finally moved to his own hands and, upon her next glance, Nico noticed that it wasn't intense in the same way. In the time between moving from a slouch to sitting some-what-straight, Chase's eyes had softened to that same look Old Lace had been giving her from the kitchen. That kind of sad and befuddled look – the kind of look that matched the sound of those dead sneakers scuffing along the stone floors of the halls.

But he sat in silence for a while until Nico pushed herself up, setting her hands on the table along with the shirt she was stitching away at, "I'm listening, Chase."

Apparently dozing for a moment, the blonde snapped out of it and glanced at her like he'd forgotten she was there let alone that he had started talking to her. She watched in silent anticipation as his hand went up to nervously push some of the hair out of his face. It was easy to tell he was awkward and at odds with himself but rather than urge him along, she just sat there and waited it out.

"You're really into this sewing stuff, right?" he asked but continued without a response, "Well I kinda wanted to know if you could…maybe…I don't know. Teach me how to do it…or something…"

Even though his voice gradually faded, in what Nico was sure was an attempt to make her question him so he could blow up, she still heard him loud and clear. Realizing that he felt worse by avoiding eye contact, Chase looked up at her and tried to make himself look stronger than he really felt right now.

"Sure," she said softly. Questioning whether or not he really wanted to learn was dumb, he'd just change his mind, so she just agreed. Fewer questions meant less problems, "What'd you have in mind? And let me warn you now, it's easier if you start small and work your way up."

Seeming to lose some invisible aura of paranoia, Chase nodded and looked back over the pile of clothes again. Most of them were Molly's things since she was growing like a weed, but some of Karolina's and Victor's clothes were in there as well. She had to fix some of the cyborg's shirts and pants to fit Xavin; thankfully the two weren't incredibly different in sizes. It seemed like he was trying to pick something to help with at first, but as Nico continued to watch she could tell that his mind wasn't on these clothes at all. The Leapfrog pilot looked more like he had something in mind but wasn't sure he wanted to say it out loud.

"What'd…you have in mind?" she tried again. This time he mumbled something but she couldn't catch it and wasn't really sure she wanted to try questioning him. After a deep breath she reached over to put her hand lightly on his arm, "Chase, I can't teach you if you don't tell me."

Another moment's hesitation had her getting a bit frustrated with him and just as she was about to open her mouth again he answered, "A blanket…out of clothes. Would that be small enough?"

Nico drew her hand back, musing over the suggestion. The request itself was sort of strange. She'd been expecting something like a jacket or maybe turning a pair of pants into shorts with summer coming up. Though she was kind of glad for something so easy she couldn't help but wonder, "A blanket?"

Chase didn't answer so much as just look up at her and gauge her reaction which sent him immediately to frowning. This was stupid, _he _was stupid for even trying, "Just forget it." He snapped and stood to retreat back to the sanctity of his room with Old Lace at his heels.

"C-Chase, wait!" Nico stuttered while stabbing herself in the finger with her needle and hissing a little as she drew it back to observe the damage. She decided it wasn't too bad as she put the stinging tip of her pointer finger in her mouth and looked up where Chase had halted near the dark hallway leading towards most of their bedrooms, "I think I just misunderstood. It's just that we barely have enough clothes to get by and it would be cheaper to get another blanket then it would be to get new clothes if you want to-"

Chase turned and Nico shut up fast at the look on his face; it was one of such confusion and near laughter that she hadn't had time to gauge it correctly. For a moment the old Talkback Chase seemed to emerge before being stuffed back down under a mask of somber strength, "What're you _talking _about, Nico?"

"What are _you _talking about?"

He looked away with an expression resembling that of someone who had just been given a shot but the doctor didn't count to three to give them any time to prepare. Minimal pain and mostly regret and self-consciousness, "I wanted to do something with her things, you know?"

_Her things? _Nico questioned, her own expression of puzzlement still plastered stupidly across her face before it kicked in. _Gert. He wants to do something with _her _clothes! To have something to remember her by! Dammit Nico, how stupid _are _you? _

Tense and easily set off at the moment, Chase immediately frowned again and couldn't help but raise his voice at the some-what offending look Nico was giving him, "You don't have to teach me, okay? I don't _need _to learn, I just thought it'd be cool to do something with her things since-"

It was hard to tell if Chase had stopped suddenly or Nico had cut him off, but the Minoru girl quickly opened her mouth, "No! That isn't…I was just confused. I misunderstood what you were talking about. Of course I'll teach you."

Silence once again stretched between the two of them, Chase looking almost longingly down the hall and Nico watching him, glancing away when she realized she was staring. The feeling was like they had run a mile together and now needed to catch their breath before moving again. Neither of them moved or tried to say anything and soon Chase's hand moved up, pushing his blonde hair back again as he broke his gaze from the hallway. Was he waiting for her to call him back to the room? The look in his eyes was one of disappointment; as though he had been hoping to hear Gert call him back to the bedroom. Like this entire thing was just a weird dream and he should have woken up before it went this far but…couldn't figure out how.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice soft and maybe a tad broken. Nico couldn't help but look back at him again just as he swiped his thumb under his eye and ducked back down the hallway. Old Lace glanced back at the witch again though her look was less hurt than it had been previously and there was a cute sort of light she hadn't seen since Gert's death. Offering a smile to the lizard, they waited for Chase and as he emerged again he carried with him a bag of clothes. Silently he took a seat at the table and pulled open the overstuffed bag and Nico immediately felt tears flood her eyes.

Right on top was the purple scarf that inspired Gert's outrageous hair – the one she had made for her all those years ago.


End file.
